


Possible (4/39?)

by Mexta



Series: Possible [4]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, post-412
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-21 22:17:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1566002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mexta/pseuds/Mexta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian wants to go home</p>
            </blockquote>





	Possible (4/39?)

Part 4

 

It was on the fifth day, when he came home after closing, that Ian was sitting up in bed drinking a beer. Which Mickey hadn't left for him.

"Hey!" Mickey said, stopping in the bedroom doorway. "You're up."

But the bleak look Ian turned to him didn't suggest anything was better. "I need to go home," he said.

Mickey's stomach seemed to spasm inside him, but he forced himself to stay calm. "Okay," he said, making his tone as agreeable as he could. "Sure. If you want to. We can go over there tomorrow."

"Now."

Mickey raised a placating hand and started toward the bed.

" _Now_ , Mickey." With an effort, Ian pushed the covers to one side and seemed about to swing his feet to the floor, but Mickey lunged forward and caught his arm.

"Wait, Gallagher. C'mere, hold up for a second. It's the middle of the night - you're just gonna get 'em all worked up ... they're already worried about you."

Ian shook Mickey's hand away irritably, but he stopped trying to move his legs and Mickey wondered if he'd suddenly realized how weak he was. Mickey took a long breath, willing himself not to fuck this up.

"I promise we'll go over tomorrow, okay? I'll take you. Whenever you want. They're gonna be happy to see you. Just please let's wait until daylight. Okay? Please?"

For a couple of moments there was no response, and then Ian didn't so much answer as melt back onto the bed again. Mickey took the bottle out of slack fingers and watched him warily.

"You doing okay, Ian? You want anything? Another beer, something to eat?"

 _Nothing_. Mickey waited a moment, then slipped off the bed to switch out the light and undress. When he turned back he realized Ian had no covers over him and was shivering slightly. Mickey did his best to tuck the blankets back around him from behind, not wanting to set him off again, and not knowing what might do it.

Ian didn't fall asleep again for a long time, Mickey was sure. He tried to stay awake too, but it had been a long day and eventually he drifted off.

***

In the morning he woke with a panicked start, fear rising before he even remembered what he was afraid of, but Ian was still beside him, apparently asleep.

Mickey slid out of bed and took a quick shower, nervous about leaving Ian alone even for those few minutes. But there was no sign of movement when he got out.

He had time for breakfast, he figured, and to get something ready in case Ian wanted to eat before they left. After that Ian still hadn't moved so Mickey went into his brothers' bedrooms and dug through their clothes until he found a relatively clean pair of jeans and a sweater that might fit. He put them on the bed beside Ian, and went out to the front porch for a smoke.

The next time he returned to the bedroom Ian was lying flat on his back, staring at the ceiling.

"Hey," Mickey said, but Ian didn't look at him. "You ready to go to your place now?"

"Why?" Ian said suddenly, his voice hoarse. "You kicking me out?"

Mickey stared. " _No_." He shook his head slightly and walked over to the bed. Ian still didn't move, and Mickey lowered himself to perch on the edge. "Course I ain't kicking you out. I don't want you to leave, Ian. I thought _you_ wanted to go to your place."

"I can't stay here forever."

Mickey turned his head, looking around the room and then down at Ian with lifted eyebrows. "Why not?"

Ian made a small, impatient movement like that wasn't worth the effort of answering, and Mickey realized it was a bit stupid. Obviously Ian wasn't going to stay here, in his bed, forever. He tried to work out what he really meant to say, and after a while he clarified, "You can stay here as long as you _want_ to stay."

This time Ian didn't respond at all.

Mickey really wished he had a cigarette.   But he was trying to keep the stale air out of the room Ian spent so much time in. He tried again, slowly. "Last night you wanted to go home. I told you I'd take you in the morning. If you still want to go, I can take you now. Or whenever. But not because I want you go, okay? Because _you_ want to."

Ian's gaze had wandered off during this speech. His head turned to the side a little, away from Mickey, toward the window. Mickey was starting to get used to the long silences. This time he felt like Ian was thinking of something, so he sat and waited to see if anything else would come.  

"I ... don't think I can ... " Ian said eventually.

Mickey suddenly understood. "Look, you're just weak because you've been lying in bed for a week and not eating. If you want to get up, we'll get some food into you and start you off slow, okay?"

Ian's head shook, barely noticeably. "Not just that. I don't feel like I can ... "

For a moment Mickey wondered what it must be like for Ian, who'd always been so tough and fit, to be unsure if he could make it out of bed. "Do you ... do you _want_ to get up?" he asked uncertainly.

"I can't stay here forever," Ian said again. There was no _wanting_ in his voice.

 _Fuck it_. Mickey fumbled in his pockets and found a cigarette. "Your sister wants you to go to the clinic."

 _Where did that come from_? Mickey hadn't meant to say it. He stole a glance at Ian, wondering how he would react.

But Ian didn't respond to this any more than he had to anything else. "I can't."

"I ain't making you. I'm just telling you what Fiona said."

"They want to get me doped up. Like Monica."

"Who's Monica?"

"She was a zombie on her meds."

"Who's Monica?"

Ian turned away. Mickey waited a long time, smoking his cigarette. When he was down to the butt, he said, "Ian?"

He waited a little longer, then peered over to look in Ian's face. His eyes were closed, but Mickey somehow knew he wasn't asleep.

"You hungry, man?"

No answer. Mickey went into the kitchen and got the sandwich he'd made for Ian. He brought it over to the headboard and set the plate down with the customary rattle, so Ian would know it was there.

"Hey," he said, pausing at the bedroom door. "I'm going out for a bit. If you want to--to go anywhere ... "   He knew it was ridiculous; Ian couldn't get past the front door if he tried; but Mickey couldn't shake the fear of coming home and finding him gone. "Just wait for me. Okay? Please? I'll take you anywhere you wanna go. Just wait for me."


End file.
